


Strays

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Stray Adoption, new pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Could you pretty please write about how Till brings home a stray kitten, but to his surprise when he gets home the reader has a stray dog sleeping on the couch. They both laugh, kiss, and hug while telling one another how lucky they are to have each other.'I WANNA ADOPT A DOG WITH TILL. I WANNA ADOPT EVERYTHING.





	Strays

You look at the dog on the sofa, and sigh. You’ve done it again, bleeding heart. But… the poor thing was so sad, and it’s been in the alleyway next to your shop for a  _week_. It looks better now you’ve given it a bath, and you look better now you’ve changed out of your sodden clothes. It, or rather he, is sleeping now on the bed, and you stroke his head gently; he whines, and you sigh. Oh dear. Till can’t argue, can he? He won’t. He loves animals. And it’s not like he can’t afford it.

You sigh, and grab the cheap plastic bowl and filling it with the cheap dog food. It was all you could grab with just cash on you – Till can buy some more when he goes out tomorrow.

“ _Arf_?”

You look up, and the dog is staring at you in confusion, as much as a dog can. You clap, and it comes lolloping over to you, licking your face joyfully. He looks like a cross between a husky and something else, you aren’t sure what, but his tail is wagging like nobody’s business.

“Tomorrow, we’re gonna take you to the vets, okay?” you say, grinning, and the dog pants. You wonder then if it speaks German or English. “Sit!” The dog pants at you. “ _Sitzen_!” It barks joyfully, joining in with this fun new game. Maybe it’s never been trained. “We’ll get there, boy. You need a name, huh?” The dog barks again, and then turns and hops back onto the sofa, which you have covered with a blanket and newspaper, before falling back to sleep again.

 _Knock knock_.

You sigh, and push yourself up, making your way out – who would that be? You close the door over behind yourself, and then unlock the front door, opening it. Till is stood there, holding his jacket close to himself, and grins at you.

“Why didn’t you unlock the door?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“I could not reach my keys. Let me in.” You stand aside, and he steps in, still cradling his coat oddly. “Close the door, sweetheart.” You do so, and he smiles at you, before opening his coat – you peer in, and gasp.

A kitten – old enough to have its eyes open, but patches of its fur are matted – is nestled up to his chest, and you look up at him. His eyes look like he’s cradling his first-born child. You reach in, and the kitten mewls at you.

“Oh my god, Till, where did you find this?” you say, and he shook his head.

“Someone sold her litter. She was the last one. They would drown her if I didn’t buy her.” You gasp, and reach in, stroking her furry little head; she’s patched with black and white, and her eyes are a cloudy blue. “I know…”

You put a hand to your mouth, and then smile at Till just a  _little_  too wide, and he looks at you.

“You can’t make me take her back,” he says, warning, and you shake your head.

“Uh… come with me.” You lead the way to the living room, and clear your throat. “Now, I want you to know that bringing  _her_  home absolutely exonerates me of  _all_ the blame…”

“What?” Till asks, looking confused, and you push the door open – there is a thump, and as you open it, your new son comes trotting up, panting and wagging his tail. Till stares for a moment, and then turns to you.

“I am  _blameless_ ,” you repeat, and he gestures to the dog, who begins to lick the hand extended towards him.

“He will  _eat_  the poor thing.” He lowers himself, and pulls your new daughter out of his jacket, setting her down, before resting his hand flat on the dog’s back. “If you eat her, you will be thrown out of the window.” The dog boofs happily, and then dips his head to sniff at the kitten, which mewls at him as if she were a lion facing down an ant; he licks her so hard he bowls the poor kitten over, and she mewls indignantly as you laugh, lifting a shaky paw to pat the dog’s nose gently. He keeps licking her joyfully, and you look at Till, who is looking up at you, grinning.

“I think we have children now,” you hazard, and he nods.

“Honestly. Now we have to think of two names at once,” he scolds, and stands up, groaning as his knees click, before sliding his arm around you. “You are terrible.”

“Says you…!”


End file.
